blind to the purpose of the brute divine
by DreamBrother
Summary: "Jesus, Danny, if anyone in this partnership needs an Iron Man suit, it should be me, don't you think? Last I checked, not one, but two of your partners have ended up dead". Originally written for McDanno Holiday Gift Exchange 2018


**blind to the purpose of the brute divine**

"_What are you gonna do with a $80 million piece of hardware?"_

"_I'm gonna wear it."_

"_You're gonna wear it?"_

"_Yeah! Because this thing is, you know, completely McGarrett-proof. It's been designed for your partner to wear."_

"_Oh, we're doing that. Still with it? Six years. Since the day I've met you you've been telling me I'm trying to kill you."_

"_What's your point?"_

"_What's my point? My point is it's getting old. You're very much alive! You're very much alive, which means I have your back. I've always had your back."_

_**Ka Haunaele (6x20)**_

"Jesus, Danny, if anyone in this partnership needs an Iron Man suit, it should be me, don't you think? Last I checked, not one, but two of your partners have ended up dead". Treading on the brakes, Steve brought the Camaro to a stop outside the motel where they had a warrant to search the room of a suspect. "And since you're my first and only partner, and you are still very much alive, you're out of running for the suit."

Silence reigned in the car as the engine clicked off and there was was no rejoinder from his partner. Steve's brain caught up with his mouth just a moment too late.

It had been like this all day. Noticing the shard of glass on the beach just a bit too late to avoid stepping on it after his morning swim, which meant his day had started off sitting in his kitchen, taking up his foot. Then, he had just been a bit too late getting to work and his favourite parking space by the Palace was already occupied by the space's second most frequent visitor.

However, the words he had just voiced was on another level entirely. Yes, he had noted in a part of his mind that Danny hadn't had the best luck in terms of former partners who had lived long - Grace Tilwell who had been shot on September 11th during an investigation she and Danny had been heading into some drug runners, and then of course Meka, who had investigated a dirty cop but paid the price with his life. But never had Steve thought that Danny was anything less than an exceptional cop and partner, one he was extremely blessed and lucky to have watching his back since the first day of the task force. Rather, Steve had been resolute in ensuring that his own actions and recklessness, his penchant for throwing himself headfirst into dangerous situations, would not result in Danny losing a third partner. The man had a big heart and although he understood the nature of the job and the risks they had willingly signed up to face, not many people could handle losing so many people in the line of duty.

Of course, Steve had to go and then phrase his words in a way that placed the blame for Grace and Meka's death on Danny's shoulders.

Fuck.

It had just started off as an innocent conversation about the Avengers, and in particular the plot of Civil War. And as usual, Danny had basically accused him of being the Naval version of Captain America, following in the superhero's footsteps of not wanting to sign any agreement that would limit his power to do want his thought was right - in other words, immunity and means was clearly something desired by many Steve's, be they Rogers or McGarretts. Danny, on the other hand, very much pitched himself in the camp of Tony Stark, arguing that protocol and the law were necessary even when in the pursuit of justice, be they human or alien enemies that they were faced with. From there Danny had commented that he was in Stark's side simply for the fact that he had the Iron Man suit which he, as Steve's partner, definitely was in need of. Because, you know, Steve was going to definitely get him killed one of these with his reckless stunts, and it was a miracle he wasn't already six feet under a few hundred times over.

It was a constant refrain, that Steve would be the death of Danny, and one that had been fed into his ears for years now. Most days he could shrug it off, or take it in one ear and out the other as with most of Danny's rantings, but a part of him was aware that he had gotten the guy shot on their very first day working together, and that as the leader of 5-0, he was ultimately responsible for whatever injury or worse that would befall his team, and most especially Danny as his partner.

However, today was simply not one of those days, and the words Steve had spoken were perhaps a sign that Danny's apparent conviction that Steve would be the reason for his untimely death had hit a sore spot, a fear that he normally never paid attention to, but was nonetheless present in the deepest core of him.

Not that it justified what he had just essentially accused his partner of.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Steve sighed. "Danny, ignore that. I didn't-."

"We've got a room to search, come on," Danny interrupted as he opened the car door and got out, walking away before Steve even moved an inch. Danny not revelling in Steve hashing his way through a sincere apology? Not even allowing Steve to complete a sentence?

He'd messed up. Big time.

Double fuck.

Twenty minutes later, Steve was ripping off his button-down shirt as well as the white vest he had worn underneath. Bunching the vest into a tight wad, he pressed it against the three deep stab wounds in Danny's side. A blessing in disguise perhaps, but they were close enough together that Steve could cover most of them, whilst using his dress shirt to wrap over the vest, and looping the sleeves around Danny's waist and tying it off - the closest thing to a pressure bandage he could come up with on the spot, with limited supplies.

Danny grunted as Steve pressed his hand on top of the roughly bandaged wounds, adding to the pressure and feeling the cloth get damp within moments of being applied.

"You're fine Danno, you're fine. You're going to be fine," Steve rushed to assure as he positioned himself partly behind his partner so he had something to rest against, Danny's head automatically taking up position on his shoulder as he continued to press against the wounds. With the other hand, he dug out his phone and unlocked it, immediately dialling dispatch.

Danny huffed out a breath. "Pick one."

Steve ignored him for the moment and spoke into the phone. "Dispatch, this is Commander McGarrett from 5-0. I've got an officer down at the Pagoda Motel in Waikiki, room 327. I need immediate medical assistance for my partner and HPD support to contain the scene. Contact 5-0 as well, get them down here!"

"Understood, Commander McGarrett", the female dispatch replied, her calm tone doing nothing to make up for the feel of thick liquid seeping through the fingers of his hand and the weight of his partner's head on his shoulder. "ETA eight minutes on the ambulance. Is the scene secure for the paramedics?"

"Yes, it's secure, just get them in here". Steve dropped the phone, no longer relevant to his needs, and used his now free hand to press awkwardly against the pulse point in Danny's neck. "Pick what, Danny?"

His partner shifted slightly in his hold – bad idea as he bit back a groan, not helped by Steve pressing down harder on his wound in response. "You said I'm fine, and then I'm going to be fine. It's a contradiction. Pick one."

"I'm not picking one, you are fine and you are going to remain fine," Steve shot back.

Of course, 'fine' was a relative term in this case. Steve had had the joy of being shanked in prison by Victor Hesse a few years ago, so he had some sympathy over how Danny might be feeling after having had a blade shoved into his abdomen. However, Danny had been stabbed not once but multiple times, and with a proper blade, as opposed to a make-shift pointed weapon, and there was no way that Steve was letting on that he was concerned by the sheer volume of blood that was pouring out despite the pressure he was applying, and the makeshift bandaged he'd applied. In the two or so minutes it had been since Danny had gone down, his face had become almost colourless and his breathing had quickened. But even that was not as concerning as the fact that very few words had been spewing out of his partner's mouth. No 'fucking ow', no rants that this was all Steve's fault, nothing.

"You're just saying that because you don't want to break your winning streak," Danny grumbled, placing his hand on top of Steve's on his stomach. Steve startled at the feel of how cold Danny's hand was. He knew shock was an inevitable possibility considering the rate of blood loss Danny was experiencing which he was ineffectively trying to curtail, but he had hoped the symptoms wouldn't set in so quickly. The ambulance was still a good six minutes away.

"Streak? What winning streak?" Steve replied.

"You, and never having lost a partner." Danny squeezed his partner's hand weakly. "First time for everything, babe."

Steve stilled. Moving his head, he tried to look into his partner's eyes but Danny was looking away, somewhere across the room. Shifting his fingers away from Danny's pulse point, he gently nudged his partner's chin up until pain-filled and slightly glazed blue eyes met his own.

"Danny, I need to you listen very carefully to me. You are the best partner a man could ask for, and there is no one else I would rather have watching my back. And I don't intend to retire anytime soon, so you just need to suck it up and stick with me until I hang up my boots. Or else I'm going to fly solo and we both know how much you hate me going off on my own." Steve gently thumped his forehead against his partner's. "You get me?" Danny didn't immediately respond, his eyes clearly looking for something in Steve's own. Whatever he was looking for, he found, and Steve was satisfied by the jerky nod he received.

Steve was a firm believer in time and place. Now was not the time for apologies for his words from before. Now was the time to ignite Danny's fighting spirit - something which was present in spades in his partner but at times suffocated by his pessimism, negativity, and the sheer number of hard hits he had been dealt.

And Steve needed Danny to fight. The vest and shirt Steve had placed over the stab wounds had long since become seeped with blood, and had run down Danny's side to saturate the carpet underneath. Shock had taken a firm hold on his partner, evident through the rapid heart rate and quick but shallow breaths that Danny had begun to take, so reminiscent of that time when his partner had been exposed to sarin.

"Guess you were right about needing the Iron Man suit now, huh buddy?" Steve said as he checked the time on his phone. Four minutes, if dispatch had been accurate. "No knife is getting through that."

Receiving no response, Steve looked down at his partner. Danny's eyes were only half-open and unfocused, looking Steve's way but clearly not seeing him.

"Buddy? Stay awake. Come on, squeeze my hand." Steve lightly jostled the hand on top of his, his heart dropping when the motion didn't result in Danny responding, but instead his hand fell away, hitting the ground with a slight thump. "Danny?" Steve pressed his lips to his partner's forehead, partially hoping to provoke a response, but mostly because it was an outlet for the feelings churning inside of him.

Danny didn't respond, and in the four more minutes it took before paramedics entered the room, Steve felt his partner's body become limp in his arms, losing tension as Danny's hold on consciousness disappeared completely. Any warmth that Steve had hoped to provide by holding Danny in his arms proved ineffectual as the increasing blood loss meant Danny's blood pressure crashed and his body cooled as whatever blood that remained in his system was diverted away from his limbs to try and keep his vital organs functioning.

And in that time where it was just him and his dying partner in the room, Steve felt remorse as he had hardly known it before. Regret for his words in the car, hate for not reacting that few seconds faster that would have prevented this, shame for not risking saying the words to Danny that he'd kept to himself all this while, for being a coward when it came to the person he cared for most in this world, who he may have just spoken to for the very last time.

_Two weeks later_

Steve was exhausted, his steps heavy as he made his way out towards the lanai, a blanket and a glass of ice tea in his hands. The past two weeks had been… intense, to say the least.

"Here." Steve nudged his lightly dozing partner in the side of his head with the bottom of the cold glass, smiling slightly when his partner glared at him. Once certain that Danny had a secure grip on the glass, Steve let go and threw open the blanket before laying it over his partner as he reclined on the cushioned lounge chair that Steve had Chin purchase and set up at his house earlier in the week, when it was evident that Danny was going to be discharged soon but was still struggling to sit up straight, or with his feet down, without experiencing pain in his slowly healing wounds.

It had been a difficult two weeks all around. The ambulance had brought Danny to Tripler on the verge of entering into the final, fatal stage of hypovolemic shock, and it was only due to a combination of sheer luck and outstanding medical skill that had Danny survived. Units upon units of blood had been transfused into Danny, and their friends had lined up to donate their own blood and platelets to make up for the blood bank's contribution. Two surgeons and an operating team had worked on Danny for hours to stitch up the damage left behind, and even after that was said and done, complications had meant that Danny had been a patient in the intensive care unit long enough to make Steve worry if this was finally going to the straw which broke the back of his sanity.

However, yesterday, the doctors signed off on Danny's release and without discussion or debate, he had been driven over to Steve's house. The massive blood loss had taken a toll on Danny, and the residual weakness, and continual pain, had meant that it would be a while before Danny would be back to fighting fit. Even reclined on the lounge chair, basking under the morning sun of a standard Hawaiian day, Steve had noted the slight shivers that had been racking his partner as he lightly dozed.

"Thanks, babe," Danny said as he took a sip from the ice tea. "I should get stabbed more often if this is the service I receive after." Wilting under the glare Steve shot him, Danny took another sip of his tea before he set it aside on the small table to his right.

Nodding to himself as he made up his mind, Steve started poking his partner in the shoulder. "Budge up a bit."

"Hey, injured party here!" Danny groused even as he gently moved forward, aided by his partner. "Get your own! What are you, cuddle deprived?"

Steve slipped behind his partner, his legs bracketing Danny's hips even as he kept his feet on the ground. Adjusting the blanket so it tucked around his partner, Steve then gently nudged him back so he was resting comfortably against Steve's chest. Looping an arm around Danny's waist, he rested it well away from the part of Danny's abdomen which was covered in the gauze that Steve himself had taped on this morning after cleaning the area and applying antibacterial ointment.

Danny, on his part, did not resist, and rested his full weight against his blockhead of a partner, getting comfortable for the long haul. When Danny placed his hand on top of his, Steve had to fight back a flashback to the last time he'd had his partner in his arms like this, taking comfort in the warmth of his partner's body, the full breaths he could feel the man taking. If nothing else, Steve breathed in the familiar and comforting scent of the sea, chasing away the remembered metallic scent of blood that had enveloped them in that motel room.

Taking a deep breath, Steve gathered his courage. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against the back of his partner's head. "Danny, I have something I need to say, but I need you to not interrupt until I'm done. Can you do that for me?" He felt Danny tense at his words, but took the slight squeeze of his hand as assent.

"What I said to you, in the car, that day, ssh let me speak," Steve admonished as he sensed his partner about to interrupt. "I need you to know that I didn't mean it, in any way. I know what I said was unforgiveable, but I need you to know there is no part of me, consciously or subconsciously, that thinks you're anything less than an exceptional cop and partner, and it was abhorrent of me to imply that you were responsible for Grace or Meka's death. I really am sorry for what I said, and I promise I won't be such an ass in future."

"You've been thinking about that all this time, babe?" Danny asked quietly when Steve's little speech seemed over, threading his fingers through his partner's hand on his stomach. "This was weeks ago."

"Yes, but you wouldn't let me apologise then, and twenty minutes after I said it, you got stabbed because you were watching my back. The only reason I'm not dead is because you jumped him, and that's not even including the hundreds of times previous when you've been the deciding factor in whether I come back here at night or not."

"I didn't let you apologise because what you said was fact, babe. I have a bad track record with the life span of my previous partners. Of the ones who aren't dead, one is in jail because I put him there," Danny replied. "You may not have meant it, but everything you said was true."

Steve shook his head, knowing his partner would feel it. "Danny, what did I say to you in that room? There is no one else I would rather have watching my back than you. And if I can't have you, I'd rather go it alone."

"That's because you're crazy, buddy, but I love you anyway," Danny mumbled as his energy waned and the need for sleep arose. Tilting his head back so it rested against his partner's shoulders, Danny felt cocooned, safe and warm in between the blanket and Steve's body, the warmth of the sun of his face.

Steve backed down, knowing that convincing Danny would take time, his demons not easily defeated. There would be time for other, more pertinent, conversations in the days to follow but for now, he was satisfied with the feel of his partner in him arms, relishing in the easy breaths his partner was taking, the tension easing from his body as Danny slowly fell asleep against him. Taking a risk, Steve lightly pressed the fingers in his grip, turning his face into his partner's hair and grinning when he felt his fingers squeezed in a death grip for a brief second before they fell lax. Pressing a kiss into his partner's hair, he followed Danny into the first restful sleep he'd had in weeks.


End file.
